


Wanting, Sometimes Getting

by yetanotherauthor



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetanotherauthor/pseuds/yetanotherauthor
Summary: Hashirama watches and wants from afar, even though he knows he's not supposed to. When someone else notices his forbidden desires, someone who isn't the one he's been watching, Hashirama's life is suddenly changed in ways he had barely dared to dream of.





	Wanting, Sometimes Getting

Hashirama was not the most subtle person that had ever lived and he was well aware of that fact. His chakra was almost as bright and bold as his personality, nearly as loud as his booming laugh. He was a large man, tall and broad, and he’d been born with a disposition to match his size. There was simply too much of him in all senses to be subtle. That didn’t mean he didn’t do his best when it was necessary.

This was very necessary.

Despite his preference for peace and finding a compromise, Hashirama was still a soldier, still the leader of a clan of warriors. He had committed his fair share of reprehensible acts. And yet the act that he had yet to commit was somehow the one for which he would surely be persecuted should his desire to ever be discovered. Even the wanting of it was enough to turn most people’s stomachs, lose him the good opinion of nearly everyone he knew. Although, it wasn’t their opinion that truly mattered to him.

If Tobirama ever found out his own brother lusted after him the way Hashirama did – well. Hashirama didn’t even want to think about how he would react. Disgust, surely. Hatred, possibly. Distance, most certainly. If Tobirama discovered his incestuous desires it would break the bond between them and Hashirama would lose his most precious person.

Knowing this, he put a lot of effort in to being discreet; more effort than he’d put in to anything else in his life. But no matter how hard he tried the fact remained that Hashirama was simply not a subtle man. He had been walking a thin line around the people of his clan for many years already. The day the elders talked him in to taking a wife was the day he knew true fear, as well as true dread. He had no wish to be married, and certainly not to a woman, but it was what was best for the clan and he did try hard to do his duty.

For a while things seemed to be going suspiciously well. Mito was indeed a wonderful person and she quickly became a very close friend, though he knew he would never love her. He was relieved to discover that, as a woman well versed in politics, she had very few expectations of falling in love either. She may have held some small hope but she was smart enough to know that the chances were slim in a political marriage. Hashirama performed his husbandly duties with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He knew it was obvious that he had little interest in her but in this, too, she was understanding. Indeed, she seemed as unenthusiastic as he was about everything yet soldiered on the same as he did. She really was more than he deserved and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

The changes in Hashirama’s life began as many people’s do: with alcohol. A feast had been thrown to celebrate the large contract the daimyo had just signed with the Senju. The contract would provide their clan with large sums of much needed money and nearly everyone in the compound had gathered in the main square to eat, drink, dance, and be as merry as only a Senju could. As the Clan Head and the driving force behind finally closing the contract, Hashirama had been the subject of most of the night’s speeches. And as such, he’d been plied with perhaps two or three too many drinks than he should have had. What little subtleties he was capable of slipped farther and farther from his grasp the longer the night wore on.

As he always did, Hashirama kept one eye on his little brother at all times. Not because he was worried or suspicious, but rather because he just liked to watch. Every motion of that lithe body was art in motion, every tilt of the head a seduction, every sliver of accidentally revealed skin a tantalizing display. As the night wore on and the moon rose over their heads, Hashirama watched Tobirama fend off many offers to dance, his eyes tracing the younger man’s limbs and imagining the way they might dance between the sheets of his bed.

It wasn’t until a hand landed on his arm that he realized how ravenous his stare had become – and how obvious. Startled from his very inappropriate imaginings, he looked around to see Mito beside him, a very carefully blank expression on her face. His own reddened immediately.

“Oh, Mito, I was just…” He stopped in mid-sentence, staring at her wordlessly as he wondered what he could possibly say to explain away the intent which had surely been plastered all over his face. Mito perched herself delicately beside him, looking across the crowds to find the same head of silver he had been watching.

“He’s a handsome man, your brother,” she murmured. Hashirama swallowed.

“Y-yes.”

“He quite catches the eye, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does.”

When she turned back to face him again he knew he had been caught, knew that she knew exactly why he was staring, and he trembled in his seat. Seeing his distress, Mito patted his arm in a soothing manner.

“Peace, husband. Don’t be afraid. You were being just a little too obvious.”

With people dancing around him, the noise of celebration roaring in his ears, and the adrenaline of fear thundering through his veins, tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes while Hashirama looked in to those of the woman he had married. Mito shook her head, her features full of sympathy. Then she stood, taking him by the arm and drawing him up with her. Hashirama tilted his head to shield his face from any onlookers, though most people’s attention was on the dancers, luckily.

The pair of them left the party and tip-toed away in to the darkness, Mito’s hand on his wrist the only thing keeping Hashirama moving forward. In the silence of his mind he was berating himself, over and again, for the stupidity of his actions. How could he have been so careless? And in public no less! With so many people there the odds were astronomical that no one else had notice his heated gazes. His only hope was that the reason behind them seemed so farfetched as to not even be considered by others.

Fear continued to gnaw at his insides as they arrived home in silence. Mito led him down the hallway and in to the living room, where she gently pushed him down on to the sofa. Herself she seated on the footstool close by, the better to take his hands in one of her own while the other lifted to wipe at the tears that were finally beginning to fall.

“Oh Hashirama, please don’t cry, there’s really no need for you to be afraid,” she told him softly.

“Do you hate me?” His lip quivered as he spoke; he felt like a small child afraid of a beating. The smile she granted him in return was soft, much softer than she generally allowed people to see her.

“No, no of course not. Things here in Fire Country are very different from back home in Uzushio. What you wish for would not be considered quite so abhorrent where I come from. I don’t hate you Hashirama. I could never hate you.”

With a sob of relief, the Head of the Senju Clan finally let go of his last thread of self-control, sinking his face in to his hands and weeping. Mito’s arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, encouraging his head to rest on one of her own as she rode out the storm of his emotions. It took a long time. Hashirama was an emotional creature by nature and alcohol certainly wasn’t doing anything to dull that.

By the time he could sit up Hashirama’s nose and eyes were all bright red, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, and the skin of his face crusted with the salt from his tears. Mito stroked his hair and his back, calming him with soft noises.

“Does it feel better to let it out?” she asked. Hashirama sniffled and shook his head.

“No, not really.” He kept his eyes downcast, still filled with shame.

“I think you’ve had quite enough excitement for one night.” Mito stood and held out a hand to him. “Let’s put you to bed, husband. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Confused, tired, and more drunk than he should be, Hashirama allowed himself to be pulled towards his bedroom to sleep off the worst of the night’s effects. It took a long time for unconsciousness to find him. His head swam and spun while the memory of way Tobirama’s yukata had fallen open plagued him until at long last the shadows pulled him under.

His wife hadn’t lied, however, and they most certainly talked about it the next morning. In the face of her steady acceptance and non-judgement Hashirama found himself spilling the entirety of his secret to her. It was almost cathartic to finally let go of himself in this way, to finally share with someone the one thing he had never told anyone.

He told her how it had started with dreams, strange dreams of his brother where a hug last too long or a hand lingered too much. How he had been still young and not quite sure what to make of such things and so never mentioned them. As the years passed and the both of them grew, the touches and the hugs in his dreams became less innocent things, and before long Hashirama’s lust grew in to something more. On the day Tobirama turned seventeen Hashirama admitted to himself that he was in love with his own sibling.

In return Mito told him how the isolation of Uzushio and her people led to many intermarriages, how the lines had become blurred over the last few generations. While she had never felt any attraction to her own gender, she was perfectly aware of what her sisters sometimes got up to when no one else was home. In fact, Mito carried a secret of her own: she had never felt desire for anyone. Though many had called her the paramount woman, Uzumaki Mito had no interest in sex. She kept her secret because she still believed in love and she had never met a man who did not equate sex with love.

At first Hashirama felt lighter for having someone to share himself with, someone to speak to when it was all feeling like just a little too much. Then the days passed and become weeks and he realized that he really felt no better than before. In fact, he could almost say it was a little bit worse. Mito’s knowledge of his situation encouraged her to try to be ‘helpful’, luring Tobirama in to their home with invitations of dinner then leaving them alone, challenging him to spars in their backyard where he felt free to remove his shirt once covered in sweat and dirt.

Though he knew his wife thought she was offering him brief moments, tiny breadcrumbs that were all he would ever get, before long Hashirama found himself driven half-mad. He spent his days with his head clouded by an immoral lust he could not shake, his chest tight with a wanting which had no outlet. The days he gave in and stroked himself to completion with his brother’s name on his lips were both the easiest and the hardest. They were easier because with some slight relief he could _think_ , he could _be._ But they were harder because it was always more difficult to meet Tobirama’s eyes afterwards and pretend he was not drowning in guilt.

Mito noticed, of course. Not much slipped by a woman like her.

“I never meant to make things more difficult. What can I do that will help?” she asked him one evening, sipping tea together in the kitchen. Hashirama sighed.

“I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “I hope he never finds out but at the same time…there are days when it’s all I can do to hold my tongue.” Mito nodded in understanding.

“You have the desire to say the words to him even though you don’t want him to know. I get it, I do. We’ll think of something, Hashirama.”

At the time he’d thought she was only placating him.

He should have known her better than that.

-

Evening had always been Tobirama’s favorite time of day. He preferred the lower light, the cooler temperatures, and the lack of crowds. Evenings had a calm to them and a quiet that often felt as though the whole world were paused in a sleepy yawn before bedding down at day’s end. It was the perfect time for a walk to clear his head after yet another visit from his least favorite person in the clan: Elder Fumihiro.

No matter how many times the aged man came to him with the same speech – _you’re the second heir, you’re getting older now, isn’t it time for you to marry like your brother_ – Tobirama always gave him the same reply. Generally that reply consisted of a prissy face, some deliberately pointed words, and showing the old coot to the door. Tonight had been no different but it had put him in the same bad mood as it always did. Tobirama did not _want_ to marry; the very thought of it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Seeking something to make himself feel better, he turned his aimless strolling in the direction of his brother’s house. It was late but not too late. Hopefully Hashirama would still be awake and willing to indulge him in a bit of company. If he acted grumpy enough he might earn himself one of his sibling’s cheer-up hugs that he pretended to hate but secretly appreciated more than he could say.

Just laying his eyes on the familiar house took some of the tension out of his shoulders. The building thrummed with Hashirama’s familiar chakra, built with the man’s own jutsu, and just being so near to that warm beacon calmed him a little. He was satisfied to see that some of the lights were still on. As he drew closer he was able to peer in through the living room window to see the one he sought sitting on the sofa, twirling an ick brush between the fingers of one hand as he lazily looked over something on the table before him. Tobirama paused his steps, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. It was nice sometimes to enjoy the small peaceful moments in which his brother was still and unbothered.

That moment was broken, however, when something caught Hashirama’s attention and caused him to look up. The bland I-hate-paperwork expression on his face fell away to be replaced with something close to apprehension. Worried, Tobirama stepped closer, sinking in to the shadows just under the window with the cracked sill where sound and heat spilled out ever so slightly.

“M-Mito? Is that you?” He heard Hashirama ask. Feeling like an intruder, but worried about the fear in his elder’s voice, Tobirama lifted his head just enough to peer inside once more. What he found there startled him beyond words.

If it was Mito standing in the room then she was capable of a damn good henge, as good as one of his own. He had no idea what reason she could have to be wearing _his_ body, however. She was a perfect copy of what he looked like after training: loose pants hanging off sharp hipbones, obi knot close to coming undone, collar wide to reveal a triangle of pale chest. She had even copied his expression, stoic with just a single layer of softness that only ever existed when he looked at his brother.

“You can pretend it’s not, if you like,” His own voice floated out to him as Mito stepped forward, slowly crossing the room in a fairly good imitation of his prowling walk. Hashirama gulped from his seat on the couch.

“What…Mito are you…is this a good idea?”

The henged woman tilted her head, her false face melting for a moment in to an expression of empathetic understanding and comfort. She lifted Tobirama’s hand and caressed the side of Hashirama’s face with gentle touches.

“I thought it might be a good solution for you. Pretend, husband. Say all the things to him that you wish you could, while it is safe to do so.”

The way Hashirama looked up at the image of his little brother was like a man in a desert being offered a poisoned glass of water, an intense desperate need for something that he knew he should not take yet could not help himself. It was a strangely broken expression for such a happy man.

Tobirama watched, riveted, as his brother lifted shaking fingers to hesitantly touch the pale skin of the figure before him, tracing down long arms to grasp tightly to thin fingers. His head dropped forward to rest his brow against a flat stomach, not moving for a very long time. When he sat back up he looked almost ready to cry as he tilted his chin up to look in to the eyes of ‘Tobirama’.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I _love_ you.” He nearly whimpered when his brother’s image bent down to place a kiss in the center of his forehead.

“That’s it,” Mito murmured encouragingly.

“I’m so sorry, Tobi, so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I can’t help it. I’ve tried to stop and I can’t and I’m _so sorry_. I love you so much.” He sounded closer and closer to tears with every word. Hidden outside the window, Tobirama felt his heart in his throat, choking the air from him. What was going on?

Hashirama let out a wounded sound which very neatly covered the startled gasp the man under the window let out as the image of Tobirama suddenly lifted one leg over to straddle both of Hashirama’s, settling down on to his lap. Mito raised Tobirama’s hands to card them through Hashirama’s long hair, stroking his face again as she shifted their bodies closer.

“Brother,” she breathed in Tobirama’s low rumble. Hashirama whimpered again.

“Tobi,” he whispered. “My Tobi. I want things from you that I shouldn’t. I dream about you, about holding you. Touching you. Taking you. You’re so beautiful I ache just watching you – and I do. I watch you. Oh Tobi, I’m so in love with you and I don’t know how to make it go away!”

“You don’t want to make it go away, do you?”

“No. No, I want you to love me back but you don’t. You never will.”

Mito took Hashirama’s chin between pale fingers, bringing their faces close together until her falsely silver hair mingled with Hashirama’s inky strands. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Hashirama wavered, staring up at the copy of his sibling with naked longing. Mito waited patiently as he went back and forth. When he slowly shook his head with sad eyes she only nodded in acceptance.

“You’re not really him,” he said in defeat. “It would feel wrong. Like I was using him.”

“What about a hug? You look like you could use a hug.”

“Yes please.”

Outside, Tobirama slid down under the sill, one of his hands clamped over his mouth to muffle the shock bubbling up his throat. He could hardly process what he had just seen, what he had just _heard_. Memories played through his head rapidly: looks his brother had given him, touches that had lingered before being snatched away as though burned. So many things suddenly made a very new kind of sense.

It took every ounce of his frayed self-control to quietly slink away in to the night, limbs twitching and head reeling as he tried to think of how to react. What would he say to Hashirama the next time they spoke? How should he act?

Safe and blissfully unaware that his confessions had been heard by the one he was truly confessing to, Hashirama buried his face in a pale neck that was a perfect representation of his brother’s. Mito wrapped arms around his shoulders and held him close, murmuring to him that everything would be okay. Her words beat in time with Tobirama’s footsteps as he fled across the compound.

-

Hashirama didn’t see his brother the day after the oddly comforting scene with Mito. It wasn’t so uncommon for their duties to keep them from crossing paths every so often and he found himself rather glad to avoid the awkwardness that he surely would have exuded. It was a great relief to be allowed enough time to gather back what little dignity he had normally.

What worried him slightly more was the way Tobirama’s eyes skittered away from his own when they spoke the day after that. As the strongest sensor in their clan he was of course the first to become aware of a small force of Shimura crossing the borders in to Senju lands. They crossed paths as he prepared to leave with a small force of his own and Hashirama noted the way his sibling’s eyes darted away and back, away and back, as though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to look at him or not. It was off behavior, very unlike him.

He worried about it for the rest of the afternoon and in to the next morning until he saw Tobirama again upon his return. Then he was confused when it seemed as though nothing was different. Tobirama acted the same as he always did, meeting his eyes and speaking in the same confident tone as usual. He still looked at Hashirama with that face that so many people thought of as blank but that Hashirama had always been able to read the affection in. The elder started to wonder if perhaps he hadn’t imagined the strange behavior.

An overly active imagination was still his top theory when Tobirama asked him to spar two days later. He met his sibling in the isolated clearing that the younger generally used when he was attempting new jutsu – or when he was in the mood for a particularly violent spar. Every member of their clan knew to stay far away unless specifically invited, otherwise it was much too dangerous an area to be in when Tobirama was present.

Hashirama was glad to have the opportunity to release some energy. He’d been too cooped up with Head duties recently, not enough time left over for training. Despite the difficulties that came with training with his brother, Tobirama was really the only one in the clan who could give him a proper workout when he needed it.

The two of them had sparred hundreds of times before and this time was no different – until suddenly it was. He couldn’t remember Tobirama ever having so little control as to accidentally get sprayed by water from his own jutsu. Within the first ten minutes they were both soaked through to the bone, cotton clinging to chest and limbs, every ridge and ripple of Tobirama’s muscles almost perfectly visible through his white top. Hashirama swallowed thickly when he noticed, trying his best to avert his eyes to safer places.

Keeping his gaze averted became difficult when his brother began to press him with swift taijutsu and it resulted in him fumbling more times in one sparring session than he had in the past year. It was almost as though Tobirama was doing it on purpose, using every move in his arsenal which best showed off his body or offered fleeting views inside the loosening panels of his kimono shirt. Each graze of their skin as he blocked punches and kicks and jabs had him forcing back a shudder. Water mingled with sweat, dripping down both of their faces, and Hashirama fought not to follow each droplet with his eyes as they fell along the path of Tobirama’s collarbones. He tried not to imagine lapping them up with his tongue like a cat in heat. Agreeing to this spar had been such a bad idea.

Hashirama’s distraction was such that he failed to see the leg sweeping out towards him own until it was much too late. In a flash he was down, back heavy against the dirt and Tobirama warm over top of him with steel at his throat. He stilled, trying to shrink in to himself and be as small as possible. He could feel the younger man’s thighs grazing either side of his own, causing thoughts of his dreams to rise unbidden.

“Ah, ha-ha, looks like you got me,” he laughed nervously, trying to sound casual. Tobirama’s weight settled down over him and he clenched his fingers in the dirt, trying to rein in his thoughts. Certain things inside his trousers twitched with interest even as he fought with himself to stay calm.

Tobirama said nothing at first, holding perfectly still until he twitched his hand, sending his kunai spinning away in to a tree and bracing his palm on the older man’s shoulder. Instead of getting up, however, he leaned farther forward. When he stopped his face was only inches away from Hashirama’s, their breath mingling and their noses almost brushing. The silence stretched on with neither of them saying anything until Hashirama could take it no longer. He squirmed, unable to stay still under the pressure of his insistent thoughts.

“Tobi? Do you want to let me up now?”

He was startled to see his sibling’s stoic expression split in to a wicked smirk.

“No thank you Anija,” he drawled. “I’m quite comfortable where I am.”

“Uh…” Unable to think of what to say to that, Hashirama simply stared up at him, absently licking his lips at the way Tobirama’s silvery white locks fell around his face.

“I don’t think either of us really want me to move.”

Hashirama’s slight squirming stilled again, almost afraid to find out the meaning behind those words. It sounded just a little too close to what he wanted it to mean but he knew better than to let himself hope for that. Tobirama’s smirk was edged with something he couldn’t properly define because the only word he could think of to describe it was _naughty_ and that couldn’t be right.

When he failed to say anything in response Tobirama let his smirk grow just a fraction wider, leaning forward so their faces were just a little bit closer.

“Speechless, Anija?” The younger man rumbled. “That’s okay. I don’t think either of us is terribly interested in talking right now either.” Hashirama blinked.

“What?” He croaked.

Tobirama’s hand moved, palm dragging across the shoulder under his grip until his finger could play idly with the neckline of Hashirama’s shirt. Blunt nails scraped at the skin underneath as he fiddled, rubbing the material between thumb and forefinger before carelessly tapping out a beat along an exposed collarbone.

Without warning he sat up, his weight shifting back and pressing down in a way that made his sibling bite his tongue to keep in a groan. His fingers lifted to trace his own shirt collar, hanging loose and wide after all the activity of their spar. The moment Hashirama’s eyes dropped to follow the path he was tracing down his clavicle he lit up with triumph.

“You seem a little distracted today. Something to do with my shirt. Would you prefer if I removed it?” Ignoring the choked spluttering his words elicited, Tobirama dropped his hands to the obi tied about his waist. With one sharp tug it unraveled and fell open, leaving his shirt held together by nothing more than the water which kept it plastered to his skin. He peeled each side away with deliberate slowness, making a proper show of it as he dragged the material down from his shoulders so that it hung from the crooks of his arms, an obscene image. “There, is that better?”

“Tobi, what are you doing?” Hashirama hoped the hoarseness of his voice wasn’t as obvious to the other’s ears as it was to his own.

“I’m not going to answer your questions if you’re not going to answer mine, Anija. I asked if that was better.” His lower lip jutted out in an honest-to-kami pout and Hashirama had the hysterical thought that he was not going to survive whatever was happening right now.

“Yes,” he dared to whisper. It seemed to be the correct answer as Tobirama granted him a satisfied smile, extracting his arms the rest of the way out of the garment and letting it fall to one side.

Once free of any clothing on his top half he reached both arms above his head, stretching as though he were not currently straddled across his brother’s lap. The movement made his entire torso ripple and dance, muscle shifting under alabaster skin in a mouth-watering display. His back arched with the motion until his pretty pale nipples were almost pointing skywards, beaded and hard. The sight was too much for the older man with his back to the ground.

Hashirama whimpered, hands fisting in the dirt. The noise drew Tobirama’s attention and he looked down, lowering his arms to reach forward and place them on either side of his brother’s head. He lowered himself until he had returned to the same position as before with their faces barely inches apart.

“I want something from you Anija, something you also want from me.” His red eyes were bright, shining in the mid-day shadows, and although neither of them were moving he somehow gave the impression of a prowling cat. “It’s something that I’ve wanted for a long time now and to be honest I never thought I’d get it. Then the other night I heard something _interesting_. Do you want to know what I heard?”

“What did you hear?” Hashirama asked, voice barely able to make it past his lips. So close together, Tobirama could almost taste the words on his own.

Instead, he closed the distance between them to taste Hashirama’s mouth for himself. He swallowed the startled exclamation, slipping his tongue past lips parted in shock and _ravished_. He gave no quarter but took, took, took, leading his brother’s lips in a heated rhythm and flicking his tongue teasingly against one that shyly answered his call.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he felt fingers brush up his arms, Hashirama tentatively reaching out as though he still had room to doubt that he was allowed to do so. He rewarded the older man with a shifting of his weight, rolling his hips down until he could feel something deliciously hard settle between the cleft of his ass cheeks. Hashirama’s startled, half-choked groan was sweet in his ears.

“Anija,” he murmured as he pulled away only the few millimeters that would give him room to speak. “I love you too Anija.”

“You…you heard…oh kami…” Hashirama turned his head, turning red with mortification. Tobirama nuzzled in to the skin just behind his ear, nipping at the tanned flesh and pulling a gasp from him before speaking again.

“It’s okay, Hashirama. I love you and I am _not_ sorry for it. I’ll never be sorry for loving you. I dream about you the same way you dream about me. I want you to touch me.” His tongue traced the outer shell of the ear before him. “Please touch me.”

He was inordinately proud of the wounded noise Hashirama made, as though that strangled sound were the crowning achievement of his twenty-two years of life. Half-hard already, his cock flooded with blood upon hearing it, as hard as steel in moments just at the thought of what other sounds he might draw from his sibling before the afternoon was through. He felt high as a kite as large hands slid down from his arms to settle on his hips, almost engulfing his waist as Hashirama turned his head and crashed their lips back together.

Tobirama allowed himself to moan in to it, throwing poise to the wind as he delved his fingers in to Hashirama’s long tresses and held him in place. The older man’s hips bucked up helplessly when he tugged on his handful so he did it again just for the lovely friction on his ass. He hummed in pleasure when fingers slid around from his hips to cup his bottom instead, separating him from the bulge he was grinding down on but kneading his muscles in a pleasant way.

“More, Anija,” he demanded, breaking their kiss again to attack Hashirama’s throat with teeth and tongue. One hand slid down to pull at his brother’s obi as the fingers cupping his ass traced the seam of it teasingly outside the cotton of his trousers.

When he whined and bit down harder, Hashirama gasped and then chuckled, dipping a single thumb below his waistline. “Tobi,” the older man breathed. “My baby brother. Mine.”

“All yours,” Tobirama agreed without hesitation. He was rewarded with more fingers slipped down under his clothing until a warm hand was palming his skin, making him rut forward in to nothing. He could feel his hole clenching in anticipation, hoping against hope that Hashirama would fill it with something – anything. Cock, tongue, fingers, he didn’t care.

He shuddered almost in relief as he felt the pad of one finger stroke ever so gently across his entrance, tapping at the ring of muscle and petting it in a strangely soothing motion. He pressed back in to the touch while his teeth made their way lower in search of a tanned nipple. They stood out just a few shades darker than Hashirama’s brown skin, tantalizing, nearly begging for him to bite and suck and lick and pull. He was more than happy to do so. The moment he did, however, it seemed the sensation overwhelmed his brother.

Without warning the hand so close to where he wanted it retracted and air whistled by his ears as Hashirama sat up, forcing him upright as well. Confusion lasted only as long as it took his brother’s teeth to clamp down on his own nipple and then he was arching, crying out in surprised pleasure. Apparently the older man had some sort of sixth sense for his weak spots because he immediately set about pulling at the nubs with his teeth, rolling and biting until Tobirama trembled in his lap with a high keen, pulling at the ink-dark hair still fisted in his hands.

“I didn’t take you for a _tease_ Anija,” he growled. Hashirama pulled away to look up at him with naked awe in his expression.

“I must be dreaming,” he murmured. “Except if I was dreaming I would magically have some lube on hand. Which I don’t.” He leaned forward again to nuzzle in to Tobirama’s chest, sucking a red bruise in to the pale skin just below one of his abused nipples. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years, Tobi. I want you so much and I don’t have any bloody lube!”

“Don’t be an idiot.” The younger man was caught between groaning at the attention he was receiving and amusement for the first time he’d heard his brother attempt to swear in years. “Do you think I’d bring you out here and plan all of this just to forget something like _lube_?”

His hand flashed in and out of the pouch on his hip before pressing a small glass jar in to the other’s hold. It had barely crossed fingers before he heard Hashirama murmuring something that sounded like a prayer of thanks and then the fasteners on his pants were being tugged on, pulling them open until they sagged and fell dangerously low on his hips. He very nearly blushed as his erection sprang free, oh so obviously eager, but he found he enjoyed the hungry eyes upon him too much to be embarrassed at his own excitement – not when the other seemed just as excited as him.

Any thoughts of being embarrassed fell away from his mind when he felt fingers petting over his entrance once again, this time covered in a slick substance. He wasn’t even bothered by the eager moan that slipped out of him or the way he pressed back in to the touch. He _wanted_ this. Tobirama pulled at Hashirama’s shirt, annoyed that his brother was still fully clothed, until the finger teasing him slipped inside just slightly. His movements paused, eyes closing and head falling back.

Hashirama watched his movements hungrily, slowly pushing his finger deeper. The tight heat surrounding the single digit was but a promise of the bliss awaiting him. As he’d said before, he was almost completely sure he was dreaming. Surely this couldn’t actually be happening right now? Yet, none of his nighttime imaginings had ever felt quite so real. He could feel the chill of his still-wet clothing in direct contrast with the boiling heat simmering just under his skin. He could feel the way Tobirama’s hips rocked back in protest as he slid his finger out until barely even the tip remained inside. He could feel the way his brother’s eager hole all but sucked him back inside as he pressed his middle finger in as deeply as it would go.

Some part of him wanted to go slowly and savor the moment he had waited for without ever thinking he would actually get there. The rest of him knew that he did not have the patience. Slow could come later. He would take Tobirama back to the younger man’s bedroom, lay him down, and _devour_ him. He would fulfil every single fantasy he’d ever had, taste every inch and hear every sound. But – later. Right now the fire burned too hot and too close to the surface. He didn’t think either one of them could wait for that at the moment. Certainly he himself was dangerously close to cumming just at the sight of Tobirama half unclothed above him, whining for more even as he slid a second finger inside.

He did agree with the hands that had been tugging on his clothes, however, now hanging limp in distraction. Hashirama scissored his fingers at the same time he ducked his head to lick a stripe up the center of Tobirama’s chest.

“I’m a bit busy, Brother, help me out with my shirt?”

He saw the younger man’s throat bob and smiled with a small twinge of pride as red eyes fluttered open to look down at him, already slightly hazy. Tobirama blinked, hips working with the motions of Hashirama’s fingers in an unconscious rhythm.

“What?” The sound of his voice, already hoarse with need, set Hashirama’s head spinning.

“My shirt. Help me out of it?”

Tobirama licked his lips absently, visibly trying to pull his concentration together before finally responding to the request. Only half of the shirt had been pulled down when Hashirama pulled his fingers away to reach for the jar of lubricant. The lack of stimulation evidently cleared his mind right away, as he fixed his sibling with a displeased look and almost violently tugged his shirt the rest of the way off.

“Hush Tobi,” Hashirama soothed him. “Just easing the way a bit more.”

When he returned his fingers to their rightful place he pressed three in at once and Tobirama keened, distracted once more. By the time the younger man’s passage was loose enough for him to comfortably scissor all three fingers and slowly work in a fourth Tobirama was panting, hands braced on Hashirama’s shoulders as his entire body rolled with the motions and pleasure flushed his skin.

“ _Anija_ ,” Tobirama ground out. “Quit being so slow!” Hashirama smiled.

“I can only go so fast without hurting you.” He sank all four fingers in one last time, curling them as he pulled back out to stroke along the slick, puffy walls trying to clench down around him.

“I’m hardly delicate so get on with it!”

“Ask nicely, Tobi.”

“ _Anija_!”

Hashirama traced the distended opening with one finger, enjoying the way the skin twitching under his touch. Tobirama looked down at him in frustrated desperation and he took the opportunity to reach up and kiss him. Kami but he tasted so good.

“Not until you ask me nicely,” he repeated in a teasing tone. He was delighted to see Tobirama blush ever so slightly, head turning away to look out at the trees shielding their private little clearing.

“Please.”

The word was short and quiet, huffed out between clenched teeth, but he promised himself that next time he would hear it gasped wantonly, that he would have his little brother _begging_ for his cock. For now it was all he needed. Just that one small word rushed straight to his head and had his trousers tightening unbearably.

“Bend over for me, Brother. I want to watch you take my cock.”

Tobirama shuddered as he let his body fall backwards off the older man’s knees, catching himself on his hands. His movements were made a bit awkward as he turned around by the pants still hanging halfway down his thighs but he neither cared nor stopped to remove them. When he had settled himself on all fours they slipped down to bunch around his knees and the sight of him was almost more obscene than if he’d taken the time to kick them off.

Shifting around to kneel behind him, Hashirama appreciated the vision his brother made as he reached down to finally unfasten his own trousers. A sigh of relief slipped out as he sprang free of constraints, drawing Tobirama’s attention over his shoulder and earning him an impatient look. Hashirama bent to press a kiss to one round white ass cheek as he reach for the glass jar one more time.

“I want you like this every day,” he murmured, coating his fingers with slick gel and biting down on pale flesh. Tobirama jerked and shuddered again but said nothing.

What he did do was slowly lower himself in to a prostrate position, ass in the air and head pillowed in his arms on the ground. Hashirama bit his lip, stunned in to immobility for a few seconds simply by looking. He straightened slowly before reaching out for one more caress, slipping his thumb inside Tobirama’s hole just for a moment. The younger man swore softly, wriggling back as he mumbled in to his own skin about brothers who wouldn’t hurry the hell up.

Not wanting to annoy him any further, though grinning widely at his lack of patience, Hashirama removed his thumb and shuffled closer, reaching down to take himself in hand and coat his length with lubricant. When he rubbed the tip against his brother’s entrance the mumbling faded away in to anticipatory panting.

He pressed in slowly, listening to the thunder of his own heartbeat and the way Tobirama’s panting increased in volume, muffled whines slipping out as he pushed back and tried to take more inside. Hashirama paused when he felt the fat head slip past the first ring of muscles, breathing deeply as he tried hard to keep control of himself. He wanted fast but he also didn’t want to hurt his baby brother by thrusting in all at once. Tobirama rolled his hips, wordlessly protesting his pause.

“Patience, love.” When the younger did not subside at his words he gave a strained chuckle and gripped his bucking hips in both hands, forcing them to still. “Let me.”

Finally he began to work his way deeper, keeping his thrusts shallow at first and forging ahead as fast as he dared without causing harm. By the time he bottomed out, thighs cradled tightly against a pale ass, they were both groaning with pleasure. His brother was so _tight_ , so hot he nearly felt ready to melt. Despite the chemicals crashing around in his brain and the lust rampaging through his veins, he’d never felt more at peace than this moment as he slowly pulled out and sank back in with a loud, unfettered moan.

He heard a tight voice whisper “ _Anija_ ,” in a desperate tone and he was lost, all restraint falling away. He pulled out again only to rock his hips forward with a powerful thrust, knocking Tobirama’s entire body slightly forward. All the younger did was gasp, “Again!”

So he did it again.

And again and again and again.

Within a minute he’d reduced his beloved brother to an incoherent mess of harsh breathing and choked swear words. Tobirama’s fingers clawed at the dirt beside his head, his body pliant under Hashirama’s guiding hands. The older man worked both of their hips, keeping up a frantic pace with his own as he used his grip to rock the other off and back on to his own cock.

When he pulled out entirely his brother whined. When he thrust back in without warning the younger keened and arched. And when Hashirama changed the angle to finally hit on that sweet spot deep inside Tobirama screamed, his entire body tensing and his hole clenched around the invading hardness.

“Kami _yes_ Tobi, that’s it,” Hashirama panted, knowing he could only hold on so much longer. “Scream for me, Brother. I want to hear you scream my name.”

He held that angle, impacting Tobirama’s prostate each time he rocked forward, and his head spun when he heard his sibling whimper. Even in his dreams he hadn’t dared to imagine such beautiful sounds. His fingers flexed, digging in to muscled hips as Tobirama cried out again and broke his voice on a sob.

“A-Anija – _fuck_ – Anija I’m c-close – _aaahhhh_ – I need to–” His words stumbled and blurred together as he tried to speak through the euphoria, his knees trying to spread to encourage Hashirama deeper and spasming with frustration when his clothing prevented him from doing so.

“Say it Tobi. Ask nicely.”

“Fucking please Anija!”

Laughing at his brother’s lust-driven irritation would have to come later. At the moment all he could do was peel his fingers away from their grip and reach down to where the younger man’s cock bobbed, full and forgotten, between his legs. He bypassed it to cup the heavy balls and roll them teasingly. Then he pulled away when his lover snarled at him and rerouted his hand to where it was truly needed.

Tobirama’s entire body quivered when Hashirama took him in a tight grip, squeezing and pulling, fingers gliding with the remnants of slippery lubricant. With a thick cock in his ass abusing his prostate and a large warm hand stroking his own erection at a frantic pace, Tobirama didn’t stand a chance. Within seconds he was screaming once more, shaking with the force of his orgasm and clamping down around his partner.

With a short, sharp cry of his own Hashirama picked up the pace ever so slightly, fucking in to his brother’s tightened entrance and letting his head drop back as he chased his own end. Each thrust caused the man under him to jerk and thrash and Hashirama closed his eyes, reaching, reaching, reaching. Then his jaw fell open and Hashirama couldn’t even hear the sounds he made as the world shattered around him.

Rapture took him, blacking out his vision and numbing all senses but for that perfect sensation of spilling himself inside his little brother, filling Tobirama’s hole with his seed. He felt as though it took an eternity to empty himself and then he was collapsing over the other man’s back, breathing harsh in his throat as they both gasped for air. When he slowly came back down from the high he realized that one of his hands was stroking up and down Tobirama’s flank, soothing the tremors still running through him.

Tobirama groaned very quietly when he pulled away, leaving a kiss at the base of his spine in apology before looking around for something to clean up with. The only thing around was their shirts and he wondered how suspicious it would be if one of them returned to the compound proper without their top on. With a shrug, Hashirama fetched his own shirt. Tobirama’s chest sported a few bruises which couldn’t really pass for actual bruises. If one of them had to go topless it should probably be himself.

He smiled in tired satisfaction at the way his brother jerked and squirmed as he was cleaned, mumbling half-heartedly about how he was perfectly capable of doing it himself yet not making even the slightest attempt to do so. Then Hashirama dropped the soiled garment to the side and pulled the other man upright, tilting him backwards to bring him in for a warm hug.

“I love you, Tobi,” he whispered. Tobirama melted back against him.

“I love you too,” he replied just as quietly. “I always have.”

Hashirama hummed, feeling happiness well up in his chest, and nuzzled the hair in front of him. They were both still damp, though drying quickly in the patchy sunlight. His body felt pleasantly tired and yet he buzzed with energy at the same time.

“I always thought you would hate me if you ever found out how I felt about you. It nearly tore me apart some days.”

“Believe me when I say you are not the only one whose thoughts ran in that vein.”

“You’re so wordy. Can’t you just say ‘me too’?”

“ _Eat me,_ Anija.”

Hashirama grinned, hidden away behind his veil of hair. He had so many things kept repressed for so long and his poor baby brother was going to have to bear the brunt of them as they all came rushing out of him at once. Starting with bad jokes.

“Any time you like, Tobi. It would be my pleasure to eat you.”

Tobirama groaned and it was a perfect mixture of hot want and heavy exasperation. Hashirama threw back his head and laughed, only settling down when his partner squirmed out of his arms and fumbled his way to his feet, awkwardly pulling his clothes in to place as best he could. He stood with the younger man, dragging his trousers up his hips as well and refastening them. Then he reached out and dragged Tobirama back to his chest, face to face.

He meant to say something but his brother cut him off, catching him in a slow kiss that lingered, chaste yet somehow so much more intimate than anything they had just done. Their lust slaked after so many years of buildup, the two of them finally took a moment to simply feel. Despite the fact that he had only just buried himself hip deep inside the other, this was when it finally hit Hashirama, when it finally clicked inside his mind.

This was happening. This would _keep_ happening. The feelings he had hidden away were returned and neither of them would have to hurt anymore. They could be together. Tobirama pulled away in surprise when he realized Hashirama had begun to cry.

“Anija?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?” Hashirama bubbled out a laugh.

“Nothing’s wrong Tobi, I’m happy! I’m really happy!” He continued to cry and giggle as Tobirama shook his head and wiped away his tears with careful fingers.

“Will you ever grow up?” the younger man asked fondly.

“Nope! But I’ll grow old!” Hashirama nipped at the fingers on his face, nuzzling in to the palms until Tobirama was holding his cheeks and pulling him closer to rest their foreheads together. “I’ll grow old with you, Tobi.”

Tobirama hummed and Hashirama had never seen him so soft, so utterly content. “I can’t wait, Anija.”


End file.
